


And Maybe Some Men, Too

by Sandrene09



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrene09/pseuds/Sandrene09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>This isn’t a soft, intimate kiss, the kind that Ian is used to. This is violent in nature, a storm brewing over the sea as Anthony lightly bites Ian’s lower lip, as Anthony pushes Ian tighter against him with the hand on Ian’s lower back.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Maybe Some Men, Too

**Author's Note:**

> For anon, who wanted smut after last week’s video (Sex Turban). I guess people haven’t learned that I don’t write good smut, but eh. I hope you like this, anon!

Ian is exhausted.

The shoot finished earlier than expected, yes, but other than that, not much is making Ian feel better. He’s still in his costume—a deep blue long-sleeved button down shirt that he has to admit looks pretty good on him, and a red bowtie he _hates_ because it makes him feel like he’s being suffocated—and he’s still a drive away from home. The hat that’s going to be the cause of every hate comment he and Anthony will get on this video is still on his head, and Ian removes it from his head with a sigh, putting it on a table nearby.

Before he can change into his clothes, the door to the room opens, and Ian turns around, relaxing when he finds Anthony closing the door gently behind him and locking it.

“Oh, hey An— _murphh_ ,” Ian greets, getting cut short when Anthony strides forward and takes Ian’s face in his hands, his mouth pressing hard against Ian’s. Anthony tilts his head and Ian moans as he feels Anthony’s tongue seek his own, feels Anthony’s hand make its way to the back of his head, feels Anthony’s fingers card through his hair.

Anthony tastes like fruit—a sweet mixture of watermelons and mangos that Ian doesn’t think he can get enough of—and Ian lets himself lean in further to kiss the taste of fruit off Anthony’s mouth. Ian feels one of Anthony’s hands make its way downwards and settle on the small of his back, fingers splayed out, warm and possessive, and Ian feels his bones turn to jelly.

This isn’t a soft, intimate kiss, the kind that Ian is used to. This is violent in nature, a storm brewing over the sea as Anthony lightly bites Ian’s lower lip, as Anthony pushes Ian tighter against him with the hand on Ian’s lower back.

A groan makes its way out of Ian’s throat as Anthony sucks on Ian’s tongue, his already sensitive nerves singing in pleasure as Anthony does wicked things with his tongue. Anthony grips Ian’s hair and pulls slightly, and Ian feels himself shudder, feels electricity zapping up and down his spine as he loses a part of his mind to desire.

Not too soon, Anthony and Ian back away, their need for air forcing them to stop. Ian has his hands gripping tightly on Anthony’s shoulders as he pants for air, his eyes open but unseeing. “What,” Ian tries to say, before clearing his throat. “What was that?”

Anthony doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans in and starts mouthing at the side of Ian’s neck, near Ian’s earlobe, and Ian closes his eyes, a long, drawn out moan being ripped from the depths of Ian’s throat. Ian feels fire consume him, feels the flames lick at his skin and puncture his organs, feels liquid fire pooling at the bottom of his stomach as Anthony sucks his skin, as Anthony kisses his way up, as Anthony nips Ian’s ear.

“ _Ahh_ ,” Ian breathes out, lost in the haze of pleasure, “Anthony, what?”

He feels Anthony back away from his neck, and he opens his eyes, unsurprised to find that there is barely a rim of brown around Anthony’s pupils. He is, however, surprised to see heat in Anthony’s gaze—it’s not desire that’s feeding the flame, no matter what his dilated pupils may suggest, but something else. Anger, perhaps?

Ian’s eyes widen as he registers the warmth of Anthony’s hand still on his lower back, the hickey Anthony has left way above the parts of his skin that his button up shirts can cover.

Between the two of them, jealousy has never been much of a problem. They’ve been best friends for over a decade and they know each other better than almost anyone else, after all. They’re secure in the knowledge that no mindless fuck with anyone else can compare to what they have.

On the few occasions, however, that jealousy has reared its ugly head, it has nearly always been Ian who felt it the most. Why wouldn’t he? He knows Anthony is gorgeous, and he knows that people see what he sees.

Ian has never been on the other side. Until now, it seems, because Anthony is still holding him, and he is walking backwards until he hits the wall, and there is still heat in Anthony’s eyes and Ian feels like it is threatening to consume them whole. Like a lion eyeing an antelope, Anthony removes his hand from behind Ian’s back—quite awkwardly, Ian might add—and wraps itself around Ian’s right wrist, removing Ian’s hand from his shoulder and bringing it high above his head, against the wall.

 _Oh_.

Anthony’s lips claim Ian’s once more, and Ian vaguely feels Anthony’s hand leave the back of his head, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it, lost as he is in the sensations flooding him as Anthony’s tongue dances with his in a passionate tango for two. He feels Anthony’s hand settle on his hip, squeezing him tight, begging to leave a mark.

Ian lets his head fall back with a thump, breaking away from Anthony’s mouth. Panting, he looks up at the white ceiling, his lungs desperate for air. A ragged groan makes its way out of his mouth as he feels Anthony press hard against him, rubbing their clothed groins together.

This is new. Ian’s not a stranger to quickies or to being pinned against the wall by Anthony, but _this_ —making out in their office building—is something Ian has never once done. He and Anthony has always tried to keep their personal and professional lives separate, after all. Business is business—pleasure will have to wait.

It seems that Anthony has forgotten this, Ian thinks as he feels Anthony’s hand let go of his wrist, as he feels Anthony reach under his shirt with steady hands, as he feels Anthony lean in and kiss his throat until he reaches Ian’s Adam’s apple.

Ian is finding it harder and harder to breathe despite the fact that his mouth and nose are unoccupied. The air is satiated with lust and heat, and Ian feels like he’s swimming in desire, feels like his skin is too tight, like everything is caging him in.

“Wait,” Ian breathes out, his eyes falling closed, “we shouldn’t.”

Anthony’s hands freeze, and he backs off. Ian opens his eyes and looks at Anthony, watching Anthony run his fingers through his hair. There is still heat and desire in his dark brown eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” Anthony asks, and it’s a genuine question. Ian has no doubt that if he tells Anthony to stop, Anthony _will_.

Ian takes a deep breath as he runs his fingers through his hair in an effort to look less rumpled. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that he looks absolutely wrecked.

“No,” Ian admits, looking at Anthony dead in the eye.

Grinning at him, Anthony moves closer and kisses him once more, Anthony’s tongue exploring every crevice of Ian’s mouth like a man hunting for treasure. His hands move upward to quickly undo the red bowtie, before Anthony drags them down Ian’s chest and undoes the last button.

“I feel like we,” Ian breathes out as Anthony backs away from his lips and starts pressing kisses down the side of his neck, “shouldn’t do this here though— _oh_.”

Anthony’s fingers quickly unbutton the rest of the shirt’s buttons, silently impatient. “Where should we do this, then?” Anthony asks right before he moves the shirt back and exposes Ian’s shoulders, smooth and kissable.

Ian puts his hands on Anthony’s hips as Anthony continues to kiss his left shoulder, licking and biting every now and then. He feels as if electricity is running through his veins instead of blood.

A long moment passes before Ian can finally answer Anthony’s question, his mind empty of everything but the feeling of having Anthony pressed tight against him. “Not here,” he finally chokes off as Anthony bites the area just under his collarbone.

Not here is an appropriate answer, Ian thinks as he grips Anthony’s hips tightly. They’re in wardrobe, after all, the room where they keep their costumes and where they get their make-up done.

“Do you know,” Anthony says, breathy, in between kisses down Ian’s chest, “just how much that stupid hat affected me?”

Ian sighs in pleasure as Anthony takes a moment to kiss Ian’s nipple, licking it until it hardens as cool air hits what Anthony’s hot breath has kissed. “That ha— _ah, shit_ —hat isn’t real, Anthony.”

Anthony smiles before moving onto the other nipple, kissing and biting where he knows Ian is sensitive. Ian’s body is a map he has memorized, and Anthony can count memories with Ian’s freckles and scars, with Ian’s ticklish areas and sensitive spots. “It might as well have been real,” Anthony says in a matter-of-fact tone, loving the way Ian is writing underneath him. Anthony kneels on the ground and he glances up, intending to look down again and continue his assault on Ian’s senses, but his plans are shot to hell when he looks up and sees Ian looking absolutely _debauched_. Ian’s hair is in disarray, and though the shirt has been removed from his body, it dangles from his hands, stuck there because the buttons on the cuffs have not been undone. Anthony can see red spots high on Ian’s neck and on Ian’s chest, bright and in stark contrast to Ian’s white skin, and Anthony can see Ian panting, his head leaned back, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides, knuckles as white as paper.

Smiling, Anthony looks back down and undoes Ian’s belt with deft fingers.

“Wha— _oh fuck_ —what do you mean?” Ian asks, and his voice is hoarse, lust radiating off him in waves. He feels too hot even while he has his shirt mostly off, and all he wants is to chase that sweet string of release.

Anthony nuzzles his face into Ian’s groin, loving the smell of sex. Ian is hard beneath the constricting fabric, and Anthony takes a moment to reach with one hand and stroke firmly down Ian’s erection through the slacks.

Ian groans, bucking his hips once. “Fuck,” he grits out, the spring in his belly coiling even tighter.

“Well,” Anthony says—he’s entirely too coherent, if you ask Ian—as he unbuttons the slacks and very slowly unzips it, “that hat might as well have been real, because I was fucking jealous the entire shoot,” he admits, tugging Ian’s slacks down.

Ian widens his legs and looks down, putting his hands on Anthony’s head, his fingers immediately carding through Anthony’s hair. Anthony is seated on his haunches, and when Anthony looks up at him, Ian can see the desire there, the heat that’s keeping them going.

This is entirely new for Ian. The whole Anthony-is-jealous thing hasn’t actually sunk in yet, never mind the fact that Ian has his legs spread in wardrobe and about to let Anthony suck him dry where they work, and _this_ , Anthony’s admission that he was jealous, is something Ian never thought he would ever get to hear.

Anthony’s still fully clothed. Ian would feel too exposed, but his mental concern is forgotten the moment Anthony slowly removes Ian’s boxer-briefs, letting the fabric rub on Ian’s cock.

Ian’s grip on Anthony’s hair tightens when Anthony leans in and licks at the tip of Ian’s cock, a moan bubbling out of Anthony’s throat when he tastes the bead of precome there. Anthony starts to tease Ian with small kittenish licks, gradually working his way to giving Ian what he actually wants instead of teasing him, Anthony’s broad tongue flat against Ian’s cock, making Ian groan out and actually thrust towards Anthony.

The room is silent for a while, and the only thing that could be heard reverberating against the walls are Ian’s pants and groans. Sweat is dripping down his face and neck.

The room smells of sex and sweat.

“Those women touching you,” Anthony says, before opening his mouth wide and bringing Ian’s cock to his lips, sucking on the head for just a moment before backing away once more, “ _licking_ you.” Anthony then dips his head and takes in as much of Ian’s cock as he can, his hand wrapped around the part that his mouth can’t reach.

“ _Oh_ , fuck, fuck, _Anthony_!” Ian moans, his eyes closed once more.

Anthony has always loved Ian’s cock. He loves how it leans slightly to the right, how it’s of average length but has a thicker girth, how it fills him up during nights spent in each other’s arms. Ian is a very considerate lover, always taking note of Anthony’s needs and wants, and Anthony thinks that now’s the time to pay him back a little.

With one hand, Anthony reaches for Ian’s balls, caressing one and then the other as he tries to trace the veins on the underside of Ian’s cock with his tongue.

Ian moans, but his hips stay flat against the wall, considerate as he is. It’s taking all of his concentration not to thrust into Anthony’s hot, wet mouth. “Shit, Anthony, fuck, _more_ please,” he groans out, his voice low and ragged.

Anthony removes his mouth from Ian’s cock and starts pumping his hand, his thumb coming up to rub against the slit to spread the precome gathering there every now and then. “You don’t know how I felt,” Anthony says, his voice as rough as gravel and crushed glass, “watching you carry that woman,” he says, twisting his hand just so when it reaches the head of Ian’s cock, smiling when he hears Ian choke down a scream, “watching those women hose you down.”

Anthony dips his head and takes Ian in his mouth once again, sucking hard. Knowing that Ian’s self-control is fraying, Anthony abandons Ian’s balls and puts his arm firmly against Ian’s waist instead. As much as Anthony would like Ian to abandon self-control, he and Ian both know that Anthony hasn’t quite gotten as much practice with his gag reflex than Ian.

Ian remembers to loosen his grip on Anthony’s hair, and he does so, taking the moment to open his eyes and look down. The view is _exquisite_ , with Anthony looking very much put together except for the state of his hair. Ian can see that Anthony’s hard in his pants as well, his cock straining against the zipper.

Anthony hums around Ian’s cock, and he hears Ian’s head fall back against the wall with a thump, expletives making their way out of Ian’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ian moans out, long and drawn out. When Anthony backs off, eager to breathe in much needed oxygen, Ian says, panting in between words, “I would have written another script if you told me you were bothered.”

It’s the truth, Anthony knows. At the very least, Ian would change the script so that it would be him touching all the ladies and getting licked by them if he had told Ian he didn’t like it. But, to be honest, when Anthony had initially read the script, he wasn’t bothered. He had thought that he would be able to handle it. After all, he and Ian know that between the two of them, Ian is more often the jealous type. That’s why when they finally started the shoot, Anthony was surprised to note that the flames flicking inside him and licking at his insides was jealousy.

In his defense though, nothing could have prepared Anthony for the way Ian’s acting improved, for the way Ian managed to make touching the women back seem very _real_ , like he meant it.

In the end, however, the only thing Anthony says is, “I know,” before leaning back in and taking Ian’s cock in his mouth. Ian’s grip on his hair tightens, and he groans, feeling liquid fire pool at the bottom of his spine.

“Anthony, _oh God_ ,” Ian moans out, his hips thrusting forward, Anthony’s arm the only thing keeping Ian’s hips from thrusting too far from the wall and possibly choking Anthony. There is electricity running down his spine, and he feels like he’s at the edge of the cliff and one tiny step will make him dive headfirst into the unknown.

Anthony hums, knowing that the vibrations will drive Ian wild.

He isn’t wrong.

Ian moans, his head thrashing from side to side. Then, he stills, and for a second, Anthony thinks he’s done something wrong and he stops humming, before Ian opens his eyes, wide and panicked, and says, “Anthony, I’m going to come.”

 _Oh_.

Anthony looks up and meets Ian’s eyes, before he _winks_ and presses his tongue against the underside of Ian’s cock and tries to trace the veins there with his hot, wet tongue.

Ian comes _undone_ , a low groan steadily making its way past his lips as he orgasms, fireworks erupting beneath his eyelids, the waves of pleasure swallowing him whole. Panting, Ian opens his eyes and looks down at Anthony, loosening his grip on Anthony’s hair as he does so.

Anthony is seated on his haunches, his eyes closed and come trickling down the side of his closed mouth. He’s still hard in his pants, and when he opens his eyes, Ian sees desire there, sees the need for the spring tightly coiled in his lower belly to finally uncoil.

Anthony swallows down Ian’s slightly bitter come, before meeting Ian’s eyes, swiping at the come that has escaped his lips with his thumb, and licking it.

Ian groans, watching Anthony lick his thumb.

The scent of sex permeates the air so strongly that Ian thinks he may choke on it, and he looks around, surprised to note that nothing seems out of place while he practically had one of the best blowjobs of his life in the room.

Anthony starts to tuck Ian back in his boxer-briefs with gentle, almost reverent, hands.

“Wait,” Ian says, struggling to take in enough air for his burning lungs, “let me take care of you.”

Anthony smiles, shaking his head and continuing to put Ian back together again, and buttoning Ian’s slacks before zipping it closed. “Not here, remember?”

Anthony stands up, and Ian gives him a _look_. “Too late for that,” Ian says, deadpan, before shrugging his shirt back on and starting to button it from the bottom up.

Laughing, Anthony takes care of Ian’s belt. “Well, I’m sorry,” he says, obviously _not_ sorry, before straightening up and kissing Ian chastely on the lips. “Want to bring this back to the apartment?” Anthony asks, his breath hot against Ian’s skin.

Ian smiles. “You know it,” he says, before pressing another chaste kiss to Anthony’s lips and, holding his hand, unlocking the door and exiting the room.

The bowtie Ian hates remains on the floor.

-.-.-.-

The Wardrobe Department isn’t pleased when they receive Ian’s costume the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Smosh. I don’t make money from this.


End file.
